A New Kind of Deadly
by whitelullaby
Summary: Crossover; OTH; Brooke/Dean “and what is my hero’s name?” “Dean – Dean Winchester.” “Well Dean,” her smile grew brighter, “I’m Brooke Davis.”


A New Kind of Deadly

Warnings: Violence, Language, and Implied Sex

Disclaimer: Shows and their characters belong to their respective owners. Any unaccounted for demons are mine.

Chapter One;

Seek and Eliminate; that was all she knew. She got a target from the boss, didn't ask questions, did herself some head hunting and assassinated her mark. Stealth was her expertise and it did her plenty well that the body she inhabited was gorgeous and innocent – no one ever expected the hot brunette to be a ruthless murderer. Know your target – the best way to get someone to trust you, is to know how they are and what will arouse suspicion. Lastly, do it; and do it quick.

Her next target was _the_ Dean Winchester; Dean Winchester who was stupid enough to let the gates to hell get open; Dean Winchester who continually made up for it by killing off demons – her kind – like they were flies; Dean Winchester who was **royally** become a thorn in the bosses side. And that is where she came in, finally; at first the boss kept her off the assassination of Dean Winchester but after the last five assassins died, the boss was finally convinced to send in the best – and she was the best, the top of her breed, if anyone could kill this pest it would be her. Sure he only had a less than a year left to live, after making the deal with the crossroad demon – the stupid ass giving him a year, plenty enough time for him to pick off an obscurely high amount of demons – a year was too much, but that didn't matter anymore, it would all end soon.

The current location of the target – the best possible place to catch him off guard - was in some grubby little bar, filled with beer, smoke and men who used their dick as their head. Sighing with distaste she strode into the bar, making heads turn immediately – his included – which made her so much more confident; they would expect sex from her, but oh no, the lucky one – he wouldn't get sex – he would get a kiss and a quick knife in the throat, they were all too stupid to expect anything like that from her. Keeping her revulsion in check, she sat down at the bar, winking at the cute bartender and ordering a Smirnoff. From the corner of her eye she watched him; watched him eying the girl's body she inhabited with increasing lust; in her mind she was already working out twenty-five different ways to kill him. It wasn't too long before he got up the nerve to waltz over to her, patting his brother's shoulder on the way and winking at him as if to say _watch me bag this one_ – men were truly too full of themselves sometimes.

He cleared his throat as he sat down beside her, taking in the legs and cleavage with bright eyes, "Beautiful girls like you shouldn't be in a place like this," he stated casually, looking her square in the eyes and grinning at her before taking a swig of his beer. She arched an eyebrow, putting on a smile of her own to convince him she was infatuated, "Really? Well I guess I should just leave then." She stood up to walk out of the bar to be pulled back down again. "That wouldn't be the best thing either," he explained, keeping his hand over hers. This was really all too easy; she scrunched her face up in confusion, "and why is that?" With his head he motioned behind her at a rather large dirty looking man who had his greasy paws fingering the neck of his beer bottle, "He's been eying you since you got in. You walk out of here, he'll follow you. And something tells me he won't take 'get off her' too nicely." She flashed a bright smile at him, her eyes shining, "Well, my hero," she held the bottle up in mock toast and then winked at him, "and what is my hero's name?" "Dean – Dean Winchester." "Well Dean," her smile grew brighter, "I'm Brooke Davis."

"So," Dean licked his lips as he stared some more at her, "What are you doing in a dump like this?" She laughed and stared down the bottle of her drink, "Bad day." He nodded his head as if he knew exactly how her day went, "Yeah I have a few of those," he then turned to the bartender and cocked his head towards his female companion, "I'll get another one of those over here." The bartender, tall, blonde and stocky, glared at Dean, and then complied with great reluctance – he wanting to be the one the hot brunette poured her soul too, but Dean had beat him to the punch. Inside she was scowling in disgust, but she put on a sweet little smile and paid her thanks to Dean.

Brooke's bag suddenly began to shake and some cutesy little pop song could be heard through the fabric. Quickly she took out the sleek phone and flipped it open, "Hello, Brooke Davis." "Brooke!" replied some raspy male voice that curdled her stomach. "Yes, and this is…" "Don't be stupid Brooke. It's Luke." She scowled, allowing Dean to visibly see her annoyance, "Look Luke, I've made it perfectly clear that I do not want to talk to you, so piss off." "What!? Brooke are you kidding me-" He didn't get to finish his sentence because she quickly flipped the phone shut, turning it off in the process.

Dean raised his eyebrow, prompting her to speak, "Annoying as hell ex-boyfriend who won't take a message." He bobbed his head a couple of times and then looked up at her, a devilish little smirk on his face, "You want to get out of here?" She sighed in relief, "Yes, please." He laughed a deep throaty laugh, causing her to gulp a couple of times – damn him for being such a ladies man. "I just have to go use the ladies first," she smiled, giving him a wink before swaggering off into the bathroom.

Once there, the smile quickly disappeared from her face, and she glowered at her reflection in the mirror. "Males and their damn egos," she muttered, running the tap till it was boiling hot, and then soaking her hands in the scorching water, wetting her face a bit too. After drying off her hands, she reached behind her back and pulled the knife from her between her waist band. Her eyes flashed black as she cocked her head to the side, watching the light dance across the Latin inscription, "You'll have your fun Winchester, but after_ your_ **mine**." She tucked the knife into the hidden compartment in her bag, smiling wickedly as she realized just how fun this target was going to be.

--

Dean went to sleep almost immediately if not soon after their fourth go around, his hand resting firmly on her hip. Slowly she got up from the bed; placing Dean's hand on his own hip instead and gathering the black robe throw haphazardly onto the back of a chair. The thin black material hugged her snugly, and highlighted her curves quite nicely when she stepped into the small ray of light tugging through the curtains. The thirst was excelling greatly now, her blood pounding in a thick luscious rhythm that made her skin tingle. The once brown eyes turned a deep set black; she lit some candles, whispering in an imperceptible voice some incantation as she made her way around the room. When she was ready she brought out the knife, which gleamed pale gold in the candlelight.

There were a few things that could go wrong at this moment; Sam Winchester could burst into the room suddenly causing her to kill him too which the boss **would not** want; and by some inexplicable reason Dean would wake up right then, kick the knife out of her hand and then proceed to use it against her; none of which was going to happen though. The thing about assassins was, there was a reason they were the assassins; they were different from the other demons, they had an acute sense of their surroundings, their abilities extended beyond that of the others – which included an exclusive ability to enter into another dimension (or a segregated place where the demons could converse without human distraction) – and with each assassin came either an increased or decreased ability to kill them – she happened to be one of the harder to kill. Also when called for they could sense their own kind easily, either to their benefit or demise.

Just as she held the knife hovering over top of Dean, she felt it; him; another demon; coming up behind her. She whirled around and looked into a pair of equally black eyes; and then the atmosphere around the two set aflame, bringing the pair into a segregated place. It was like an expansive dead land, silent save for the quiet screams of hell below. "Jacob," she glowered, her voice suddenly changing to a rich, sultry tone; thick with betrayal and hate. The man standing before her smirked a sick sadistic little smile, one that made her thirst for blood boom even greater; one that made her hate everything; everyone, "Isabelle, darling." Isabella gripped the knife in her hand tight; her skin breaking around the sharp handle; "Fuck you, what are you doing here Jacob?" He walked around her; his form a lean, tall, handsome older man, rich with stubble and dirty blonde hair; tutting at her as if she were a child, "Now Isabelle, is that anyway to speak to me?" Her voice quivered in a deadly tone, "It's the _**only**_ way to talk to you." Jacob sighed, "Bitch, I made you!" he grabbed her head and yanked it backwards so he could see her charcoal eyes, his tone turned to fake politeness to biting anger. Trickles of blood ran down the expanse of her hand as she clenched the knife tighter still, she said nothing but snarled at him, spitting up into his face. He threw her head away from him, making the woman – demon – stumble onto the ground, "If it weren't for me, you would have been down there burning like the whore you are!" Had she not been a demon, her eyes would've surely gone black from the fury raging inside her; she pushed herself off the ground, thick droplets of blood running onto the knife and dripping onto the floor. "It doesn't matter anyways, because you'll soon be there," Jacob leered, bringing out his own knife, quite similar to her own; an assassin's knife; a knife that **could** kill her and very well might. Isabelle looked at him with nothing but unadulterated hate, "What are you talking about." He flipped the knife around like a toy, "I'm talking about the boss not liking your recklessness; time to go home Bella."

"Not yet," she let out a deep roar, and charged at him, just barely catching him off guard as their blades connected. "That was not wise Isabelle," Jacob spat, their hands above their heads trying to hold off each others dagger. "Oh I think it was," she spat back darkly, kneeing him swiftly in the ribcage and kicking him away from her. Jacob stumbled back, he laughed, a hand hovering over one section of his chest that had cracked viciously, "You're a right little bitch aren't you? You just have to fight for **every **_**little THING**_." He lunged at her then, knocking the wind out of her when her back impacted with the ground, she could barely catch a breathe as she held his hand back with all the strength she had, her other hand clutching desperately for her own dagger. "Such a shame that we couldn't have a little fun beforehand, it's not as fun when you're already hot," his spit landed on her lips as he sneered down at her before placing a very unwanted kiss. Isabelle grasped the knife in her hand, and lifted her legs, pushing him off of her, "Ya, such a damn shame," she jumped on him, pining her knife in his chest. He gagged, blood already seeping through the cotton shirt, making deep red patterns around the knife, he choking out a few words, "You. Bitch." She pulled the knife out of him and swiftly slit his throat, tightly closing her eyes as a quick spurt of blood splashed out as he burst into a flash of electricity and flames.

Sam burst through the door of the room, the colt gripped firmly in his hand as he stared wide eyed at Isabelle and Jacob's deteriorating body. Dean sat up instantly, his eyes big as saucers as he gaped at Isabelle, her knife clutched in her bloody palm. None of them said a word, Jacob vanished into dust with the only hint he was ever there on the blade of Isabelle's dagger. Sam was the first to react; pointing his gun at Isabelle with a determined look on his face, "Get up." Dean stuttered and stumbled as he shot out of bed, boxers and all, "What the hell man?" "She's a demon," Sam stated bluntly, not taking his eyes off of the glaring brunette. "How the-" "Her eyes." She scoffed, her eyes rolling back as she held her hands up, knife still clasped in her hand, "Oh yes, my eyes, they were black weren't they Samuel?" she laughed some more, causing Sam and Dean to stare at her confusion, "You think you can kill me with that little thing Sammy? You've got another thing coming Hun." His hand wavered, and lowered a tiny bit so he could see her face fully, "And you're lying so I don't shoot you and send you back to hell," he straightened his hand out and his trigger finger started to push up the tiniest bit.

"All you're going to do is put a bullet in the poor girl's head," she stated loudly, waltzing around the boys, "probably cause her some massive brain damage…And here I thought you guys were about** saving** people, not _hurting_ them." That had hit quite a nerve with the boys, and Sam lowered the Colt down immediately. "That's better," she surveyed the boys in a new light, noticing that they were watching her every move, she rolled her eyes and moved her hands across her chest, "Cross my heart and hope to die, I swear I do not tell a lie. The only way to get me out of her is for me to leave of my own free will." "You just tried to kill me!" Dean spat, pointing his finger accusingly at the blade in her hand. Isabelle brought it up to her face and faked a laugh, "Who said it was for you?" she stopped laughing at Dean's cross face, sighing in disgust, "Don't worry, I'm officially rouge; no more attempted assassination." Both the boys burst at her, moving quickly towards the petite brunette, "WHAT?" She held her free hand up in front of her, "No need to yell!" she locked eyes with Dean, "I can help you." Dean glared hard at her, "What makes you think I want your help?" he spat back, getting right up in her face. "Because you don't want to die," she replied smugly, crossing her arms in front of her.

The pair stared at each other, long and hard, neither easing up on the dark expressions on their face. "Guys," Sam said, butting between the sparring two, like it was just a couple of friend who loved to get on each other's case. "You'll do it Winchester, because you can't handle the guilt of knowing that if you do find some crazy way to kill me; this girl I'm in – DIES – and you'll do anything to prevent that, especially if it can benefit you." Dean crossed his own arms, glaring accusingly at Isabelle, "What's it to you?" Isabelle gave him a toothy grin, "Revenge. Take care of her boys." The room flashed with light, and the brunette fell back onto the bed and remained motionless for a good few seconds. Then she started to groan, her eyes still shut firmly but her brow was set in a frown, her one hand reached up and covered her eyes, "Oh god…Peyton I'm going to kill you!" she peeked open her eyes noticing the two men towering over her staring at her in utter surprise, "…Hi."


End file.
